
The Flight from Wyoming. 



AN ADDRBSS 



DELIVERED BY 



William A. Wilcox, Esq., 



OF SCRANTON, Pa. 



AT THE WYOMING MONUMENT 
ON THE OCCASION OF THE ONE 
HUNDRED AND NINTH ANNIVER- 
SARY OF THE BATTLE AND MAS- 
SACRE OF WYOMING, JULY 2, 1887, 



Taken from the Procefdings of the Wyoming 
Commemorative Association 1887. 




i>ki:sE.\Ti:n uy 



f o^ 1 o 

The Flight from Wyoming. 



AN ADDRESS 



DELIVERED BY 



William A. Wilcox, Esq., 



OF SCRANTON, Pa. 



AT THE WYOMING MONUMENT 
ON THE OCCASION OF THE ONE 
HUNDRED AND NINTH ANNIVER- 
SARY OF THE BATTLE AND MAS- 
SACRE OF WYOMING, JULY 2, IS87. 



/ £> 



Taken from the Proceedings of the Wyoming 
Commemorative Association 1887. 






68521 

Press of 

The Wilkes-Barre Record, 

Wilkes-Barre, Pa.: 

1900. 



V 






The Flight from Wyoming, 

By WILLIAM A. WILCOX, ESQ., 
on SCRANTON, Pa. 



The matchless beauty of this Valley of Wyoming has 
frequently been the inspiration of the pen of the poet and of 
the pencil and brush of the artist. The story of the battle 
and massacre has been told again and again, in prose and in 
verse, with painstaking elaboration of detail and in the quick 
sentences of passionate eloquence, until it is familiar, as 
it deserves to be, not only in the homes of the valley and m 
the widely scattered homes of the descendants of the patriots, 
but wherever the English language is known and wherever 
patriotism dwells. The names of those who fought have 
been reverently gathered and are here fittingly inscribed on 
this monument erected to their memory. The influnce of 
the event on the final result of the war for independence has 
been ably discussed and its importance so clearly shown that 
it is now conceded by all. The questions of title and of 
jurisdiction have been exhaustively treated and long smce 
happily settled. Passing all of these by as matters familiar 
to you, I shall try to stir your love of country and of home, 
(which I take it is the proper object of this gathering), by 
recounting some of the particulars of the flight of the in- 
habitants. 

Justice and gratitude demand that we remember not 
only the valor of the soldiers who fought on that eventful 
third of July, but as well the sufferings and fortitude and 
endurance of the noble women of Wyoming. 

Let us first glance at the geographical position and sur- 
roundings of Wyoming. It was an isolated community, 
almost embosomed in the country of a savage enemy. "The 
Six Nations," a confederation of powerful and warlike In- 
dian tribes, occupied Central and Western New York, with 
prominent towns at Geneva, (Kanedasegua), Tioga, 
Chemung and other points to the north and west of Wyo- 
ming. Niagara, occupied by the British, was the stronghold 



from which British, Indians and Tories sallied forth on their 
expeditions against the settlers of different parts of the 
country. "It was the depot of their plunder; there they 
planned their forays, and there they returned to feast until 
the time for action should come again." 

To Shamokin or Sunbury, the nearest inhabited post 
down the river, was seventy miles. 

Between the Susquehanna and the Delaware rivers are 
two mountain ranges. The one next the Susquehanna is 
the Moosic range, or Pocono. To the south-east of Wyo- 
ming it is a plateau or table-land 800 to 1,400 feet above the 
valley. The greater part of this plateau is to this day a per- 
fect wilderness, parts of it covered with a dense primeval 
forest growth of pines, spruces, balsams, etc. Here are 
found also in places the heaths, orchids and sedges of 
Labrador and Northern Europe, almost on their southern 
limit. Much of this wilderness is swampy and there are 
large tracts, miles in extent, covered with bogs and marshes. 
Col. John Jenkins, writing March 14, 1756, says: 
"Great Swamp lies about forty miles west south-west from 
Cashuetunk or Station Point; from Bethlehem about forty- 
five miles north north-west; from Gnadenhutten about 
twenty-three miles north, something west. This swamp lies 
just over the mountains which Evans calls Cashuetunk 
Mountains, and is twenty-five miles from north to south and 
fifteen miles from east to west. The Bethlehem people say 
four or five hundred Indians keep in this swamp, and from 
thence 'tis imagined they send out parties to destroy the 
settlements." 

Some idea of what this immense wilderness is, can be 
formed from a ride over the D., L. & W. R. R. to the 
Water Gap. Beyond this plateau, lying northeast and 
southwest, is a valley in which fiow towards the south the 
Lehigh River and its tributaries, the Tobyhanna and Tunk- 
hannock Creeks, and in the other direction the Wallenpau- 
pack and the Shohola Creeks. Across this valley from us 
is the Blue Mountain, with its Wind Gap and Water Gap. 

The region can hardly be called, as Stone has it, a path- 
less one. There were Indian trails crossing it towards the 



5 

Southeast, perfectly familiar, doubtless, to the savages and 
more or less so to the settlers, though it can hardly be pre- 
sumed that they were practically so to the women and 
children. 

These paths or trails are described as being remarkable 
for their directness. They preferred hill-sides to ravines 
and close valleys, were conveniently wide for foot travel, 
and frequently in favorable soil worn to a depth of one or 
two feet, or even more. 

One of them was known as the "Warriors' Path." It 
led from Wyoming to Fort Allen, now Weissport, on the 
Lehigh. It was laid down on the old maps and surveys 
and in 1844 was still a well beaten path, used by people in 
crossing the mountain from Hanover. 

Another led through the marshes already mentioned, 
to Stroudsburg, then known by the name of Fort Penn. 
This route had been used by most of the settlers coming 
into the valley, and some ten years before they had deter- 
mined on opening it as a road. This had, however, not 
been accomplished, and was not until Gen. Sullivan came in, 
in the Summer of 1779. 

Another trail lay up the Lackawanna by Capouse 
Meadows and the Lackawaxen. Having reached the Dela- 
ware the route was up the river to the Minisink country, 
thence across to Newburgh and Poughkeepsie, and to Con- 
necticut and Rhode Island. 

The number of those to whom, in the spring of 1778, 
the valley was home, was not far from 4,000 in the aggre- 
gate. About 200 of these were absent with Washington's 
army. Between three and four hundred fell in the battle 
and massacre. The number of those, then, who sought 
safety in flight was probably a little in excess of three thou- 
sand, men, women and children. It is with these 3,000 we 
have now to deal. 

The terrible odds of the conflict while not positively 
known had been feared by all. And while husbands and 
fathers and sons made preparation for the battle mothers 
and children anticipated the worst, and prepared for flight. 



Word had been sent out on Thursday, and the inhabi- 
tants were gathered, most of them in Forty Fort, some in 
Pittston and Wilkes-Barre Forts. 

These women who had been accustomed to pioneer 
life, who, while the men were away on pubhc duty had 
cheerfully assumed the work of planting and harvesting, — 
who had leached ashes and earth to make saltpetre for gun- 
powder, — who could load a musket and adjust a fhnt, were 
not the women to sit down despairingly while there was any- 
thing for them to do. What preparation could be made 
for the journey had been made, and before day-break of 
Saturday, the day following the battle, the majority had 
turned their faces towards Shamokin or towards Con- 
necticut. 

Let us take Miner's description of the flight, borrowed 
by him largely from earlier accounts. A few who had 
escaped came rushing into Wilkes-Barre Fort where 
trembling with anxiety the women and children were gath- 
ered, waiting the dread issue. The appalling "all is lost" 
proclaimed their utter destitution. They fly to the moun- 
tains — evening is approaching — the dreary swamip and "The 
Shades of Death" before them, — the victorious hell-hounds 
are opening on their track. They look back on the valley — 
all around the flames of desolation are kindling; they cast 
their eyes in the range of the battle field, — numerous fires 
speak their own horrid purpose. They listen! The exult- 
ing yell of the savage strikes the ear! Again! A shriek of 
agonizing woe! Who is the sufferer? Is it the husband 
of one who is gazing! The father of her children! 

O God, who art the widow's friend. 
Be thou her comforter. 

Their flight was a scene of wide-spread and harrowing 
sorrow. Their dispersion being in an hour of the wildest 
terror, the people were scattered, singly, in pairs, and in 
larger groups, as chance separated them or threw them 
together in that sad hour of peril and distress. Let th« 
mind picture to itself a single group, flying from the valley 



to the mountains on the east, and climbing the steep ascent 
— hurrying- onward, filled with terror, despair and sorrow 
— the affrighted mother whose husband has fallen — an in- 
fant on her bosom, a child by the hand, an aged parent 
slowly climbing the rugged steep behind them; hunger 
presses them severely; in the rustling of every leaf they hear 
the approaching savage, a deep and dreary wilderness is be- 
fore them, the valley all in flames behind, their dwellings 
and harvests all swept away in this spring flood of ruin, the 
star of hope quenched in this blood shower of savage ven- 
geance. 

There is no work of fancy in a sketch like this. Indeed 
it cannot approach the reality. There were in one of these 
groups that crossed the mountains on the Warriors' Path 
one hundred women and children, and but a single man, 
Jonathan Fitch, Esq., (sheriff of Westmoreland) to aid, 
direct and protect them. 

Botta, in his history of the Revolutionary war, in con- 
cluding his account of the Massacre of WS^oming, says: 
"Those who survived the massacre were no less worthy of 
our commiseration. They were women and children who 
had escaped to the mountains at the time their husbands, 
fathers and friends expired under the blows of the bar- 
barians. Dispersed and wandering in the wilderness as 
chance and fear directed their steps, without clothes, with- 
out food, without guide, these defenceless fugitives suffered 
every degree of distress. Several of the women were deliv- 
ered alone in the woods at a great distance from every possi- 
bility of relief or help. The most robust and resolute only 
escaped, the others perished; their bodies and those of their 
helpless infants became the prey of wild beasts." 

The majority of the settlers had fled Friday night; 
others, a large number, set out Saturday night, while there 
were those, some of them detained by savages, some by dif- 
ferent necessities, who remained still longer. They may 
have been more confident of the humanity of Col. Butler, 
and of their Tory neighbors, and afterwards relied on the 
pledges of the articles of capitulation. A few instances will 
suffice to sliow how those pledges were kept: 



8 

Jonathan Weeks, whose three sons fell in the battle 
with four others of his household, seven in all, was one of 
those to remain. A band of savages, led by one called 
Turkey, visited his house, and after destroying property and 
submitting him to indignities at their hands, gave him three 
days to remove with his family. His house and property 
were then burned. 

Mr. Flickman, his wife and child were murdered at 
Capouse the day after the battle. 

James Adam Leach and Daniel St. John, attempting 
to leave in the direction of Capouse, were murdered about a 
mile above Old Forge. 

Timothy Keys and Solomon Hocksey were taken cap- 
tive, carried northward and killed in Abington. 

The treachery of the enemy and the insecurity of their 
position became more and more apparent every day to the 
settlers who had remained, and when at last they were 
driven from Wyoming they found themselves pursued in the 
same manner, and had to encounter the same privations and 
sufferings as did their neighbors who had preceded them. 
The percentage of those who survived was probably not 
materially different among those who f^ed at once and those 
who remained to the last. 

Most of the fugitives took the Stroudsburg route over 
the mountain. It has already been mentioned as leading 
through the Pocono marshes. One of these had been 
known as the "Great Swamp," but it has ever since been 
called the "Shades of Death," because of the great number 
who perished there in their flight. While that number can- 
not be told with any degree of certainty, it may be set down 
as probably about two hundred. 

About one-third of the whole number of fugitives, per- 
haps one thousand, went by canoes, rafts, etc., down the 
Susquehanna. Mr. Wm. Maclay, in a letter to the Council 
of Pennsylvania, July 12, 1778, (nine days after the battle) 
says: "I left Sunbury on Wednesday last. I never in my 
life saw such scenes of distress. The river and roads lead- 
ing down it were covered with men, women and children, 



9 

flying for their lives." They went from Sunbury to Har- 
risburg to Lancaster County, while many took their way 
across the mountains from Catawissa, Berwick, and other 
points to the Lehigh and Delaware. 

The time occupied in the journey, of course, varied 
greatly. Some reached Sunbury with canoes in twenty- 
four hours. To Stroudsburg was two or three days' jour- 
ney. Connecticut could be reached in about two weeks. 

At the time of the battle Capt. Spaulding, at the head of 
sixty-nine men, what remained of Captains Ransom's and 
Durkee's companies, was on his way to the relief of Wyo- 
ming, and met the foremost of the fugitives the evening of 
Sunday at Bear Swamp. As his force was entirely inade- 
quate to engage the invaders he went only to a point over- 
looking the valley, then disposing his forces so as to give 
the greatest assistance to the flying settlers, returned 
towards P'ort Penn where he remained until August 4. 

While the feelings engendered by the Pennsylvania- 
Connecticut question of jurisdiction found expression in 
many acts of barbarous inhospitality on the part of some 
tov.'ards the fugitives, still it is to be said that most of those 
with whom the fugitives came in contact were found ready 
to assist them in every way possible. The generous Scotch- 
Irish of the Paxtang settlement were particularly hospitable, 
and the Moravians at Bethlehem. 

Let us now look at a few of the details, some of them 
unpublished, of this said story. Mercy Ross, widow of 
Lieut. Perrin Ross and sister of Jonathan Otis, both of 
whom were killed in the Wyoming Massacre, gives this ac- 
count of her escape:, 

When the news came to go into the fort she packed the 
papers and clothes in a chest and her pewter platters she 
buried with other articles in the garden. She then took 
her children and went into the fort (Forty Fort) the night 
before the battle. When the news came to the fort that our 
men were defeated she would not stay in the fort. A party 
of thirty, one old man with a horse, the rest women and 
children, went out of the fort at night, crossed the river at 



lO 

Wilkes-Barre and went up into Solomon's Gap that night. 
When they got into the woods they lay down to rest and 
sleep. They went on next day and were ten days getting 
through the wilderness. Hannah, (Ford) wife of Josiah 
Rogers, died on the route and was buried under the root of 
a fallen tree, and Mrs. Ross was so worn down with the ex- 
citement and fatigue of the journey and starved for want of 
food, that when the burial was over and the party was about 
to move on, Mrs. Ross said that she could go no further and 
would like to be buried alongside of the other woman. She 
was, however, appealed to in behalf of her children, and 
urged to get up and go on with the party, which she was 
finally induced to do. They first met the abode of civiliza- 
tion at Allentown and stopped at the house of the people and 
asked for food, but were refused. 

They did not go far after this before they were taken up 
by the Government and furnished with provisions. She 
had live children with her, all of whom were about naked, 
so badly were their clothes torn and worn in the journey. 
About the first of October, three months after the battle, her 
last child was born in Connecticut. In March, 1782, she 
married Samuel Allen, with whom she moved to Wyoming 
to the place of her former husband, Perrin Ross, on Ross 
Hill, in the winter of 1784-5. 

The Rogers family of Plymouth, who formed part of 
this company in the afternoon of that fatal day, heard of the 
defeat and immediately set out to return to Connecticut. 
Having but two horses one was packed with indispensables, 
while one was devoted to carrying the old grandmother, 
who, too feeble to sit up, was held in the arms of some of the 
men. When they had thus traveled some six days she 
asked to l)e lain on the ground and soon after expired. Her 
burial has already been mentioned. 

A company consisting of Mr. Halldron, Mrs. 

Barritt, and Mrs. Morris set out immediately by the 

Warriors' Path on hearing the result of the battle. They 
proceeded two miles and halted, awaiting the rising of the 
moon, the night being very dark. They then set out on 
their journey and were three days and nights in getting to 



1 1 

Fort Allen. The second night there was a child (son) born 
to Mrs. Morris. Her husband was in the battle but escaped. 
When they reached the Lehigh a man came over the river 
to meet them, riding a powerful horse and bearing two jugs 
of milk and a bag of biscuits. He fed them and helped 
them to cross the river. In three weeks they reached their 
destination in Connecticut. 

One hundred and eighty women and children, with 
thirteen men, having been detained by the Indians and 
plundered, were sent off in one company three or four days 
after the battle, bare footed, bare headed and suffering for 
want of food. 

I would like here to speak some worthy tribute to these 
Women of Wyoming as women. This inscription on the 
monument, prepared, I believe, by Mr. Edward G. Mallery, 
while very much to be admired as being noble and 
patriotic in sentiment, chaste and eloquent in expression, 
and accurately truthful in point of fact, seems to be deficient 
in that it makes no recognition of the women. True, they 
were not in the battle; theirs was the anxiety of suspense. 
The men and boys who fought were patriots; their mothers 
had taught them patriotism. They showed a courage that 
deserved success; the women showed a fortitude, a faith 
and a power of endurance that brought final success even 
after defeat. 

Some element of danger has always a fascination to 
brave hearts, but it would seem that experiences such as 
these, following as they did the Plunkett invasion and other 
features of the Pennamite war, would satisfy any with this 
valley. But such was not the case. Life here had been too 
sweet. They had come expecting to find a wilderness, and 
willing to bestow courageous, hard, persistent labor to make 
of it a home for themselves and their posterity. Coming 
with this expectation they had not been disappointed. 
They found a climate more favorable than that of their 
former homes ; a soil that brought forth abundantly. 
They had established a government of their own, which, 
says Col. Stone, was the most thoroughly democratic prob- 



tUN 8 190Q 



12 



ably of any government that has ever existed among civil- 
ized men. They were intelligent, honest and industrious, 
and they were happy. 

Goldsmith's "Sweet Auburn," in its prosperous days, 
fom-id a counterpart here. It is not strange that Colerige 
and Southey should associate this Wyoming with their 
Utopian dreams. It's quiet life was as perfect as its then 
unmarred landscape. And the influence of that life was suf- 
ficient to bring back many of the survivors, notwithstanding 
its past and future perils. Men came to take up that life 
where they had left it off. Widows came to mourn their 
dead. Those who had fled as children came again as hus- 
bands and wives. ThrvyUgh many more years of danger 
and of difificulty they defended their possessions to transmit 
them to their present custodians. Justice and gratitude de- 
mand from us this public recognition of their noble sacrifice. 
The heritage here of the present from the past consists not 
alone in these broad fields with their store of mineral wealth. 
The names and blood of the settlers and the memory of their 
deeds have come down. The love of liberty that dictated 
that form of local government established by them — the 
wisdom and fidelity with which it was administered — the 
patriotic spirit of self-sacrifice that sent, in a time of home 
peril, one-half the fighting men of the valley (eight times the 
quota) into the Revolutionary army — the noble virtues of 
the women which I have to-day feebly portrayed in part — 
let us trust that these have been transmitted. Every word, 
thought and look of sympathy with heroic action helps to 
make heroism. How fitting then are these annual gather- 
ings of the descendants of the settlers, held in recognition 
of the obligation of the living to the dead. Let us ever re- 
peat the story of these Wyoming patriots to the end that we 
may perpetuate in ourselves and in our children their virtues 
and thereby also their institutions. 



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